by Durjoy Datta
‘Just go and win. Don’t let me down,’ she said. The taxi honked and reached the college gate. We were still waiting for Malini. I had called her twice in the last fifteen minutes and she had told me she would be there in two minutes. She sounded drunk on the phone.
‘Hi, Avantika,’ Malini said, a silly drunk smile on her face. Unlike mine, her suitcase was small and light and she lobbed it into the boot of the taxi herself.
‘Hi, Malini.’
‘I wouldn’t be crying if I were you,’ Malini said.
‘Why so?’ Avantika asked.
‘He is doing this for you. You are one lucky girl, Avantika,’ she said and smiled at Avantika.
‘Isn’t he sweet?’ Avantika winked a knowing smile at Malini who looked away and slipped into the back seat with me. We waved and after the driver confirmed the destination, we were off. Avantika did not want to come to the airport for she did not want to see me go.
‘I like your girl,’ said Malini, putting on her huge bumblebee-type sunglasses to hide her reddened eyes.
‘And she likes you, I guess.’ I smiled. ‘There is something so similar between the two of you.’
‘So will you fall for me now?’ she joked.
‘Will you?’
‘I have a boyfriend. If I didn’t, then maybe,’ said Malini and added, ‘Avantika is too good for you.’
It wasn’t the first time someone had pointed this out so I just nodded.
‘So, how did you two land up together?’
‘It is a long story,’ I said. We got in the line, took our boarding passes and went through the security check. My mind raced back to how Avantika and I had started. We boarded the flight and Malini started that conversation again.
‘We have a two-hour flight. I think now you can tell me your long story,’ she said.
‘I get airsick,’ I said.
‘That’s why you should always be piss drunk before a flight.’
18
People clamoured to get their luggage out from the overhead bins like it was a race. Malini and I sat tight in our seat till the aircraft cleared and joined the ones who had won the race to the shuttle bus that took us to the airport building.
‘That’s an interesting story!’ she said as we entered the Mumbai airport.
‘I told you it was,’ I said.
‘So are they going to send us a car or what?’ she asked as we picked up our bags from the conveyor belt.
‘Malini, we are participants, not the chief guests!’ I mocked.
‘So do you know how to get there?’
‘There must be taxis outside I believe.’
It turned out that there were plenty and they fought between themselves to catch our attention. We chose a taxi driver who looked like he wouldn’t rip us off, and it took us an hour and a half to reach the college. Drenched in sweat, we were cursing the city and our decision to participate.
‘I am already regretting coming here, Deb. You are an asshole,’ said Malini.
I called up the festival coordinator and he came running to the main gate to receive us. His urgency in signing us in and making sure we got a comfortable room in the college’s guest house calmed our nerves.
‘I hope you don’t snore,’ she said.
‘I don’t,’ I said. ‘I hope you don’t fart.’
‘I do sometimes and people die when I do.’ She frowned. ‘At what time does the competition begin tomorrow?’
‘It is at ten, I guess.’
‘You want to go through the presentation again?’
‘Sure. Shashank has made some changes and I guess they are good.’
‘Nice,’ she said and flipped open the laptop.
It was already ten in the night when we finished going through the presentation, making last-minute changes, altering the backgrounds and fonts a little so that the judges spent more time looking at the slides than trying to understand them. We divided our parts and we thought we were ready to go. I was unpacking when Malini’s phone rang and she went outside the room to get it. She came back to the room, smiling, and I wondered if it was her boyfriend from back home.
‘Guess what!’ she said.
‘What?’
‘A friend called and she invited me to a party! She saw my status message on Facebook and knew that I was in Mumbai. It’s going to be sweet.’
‘So?’ I asked.
‘So? Let’s go!’ she said, excitedly as she rummaged through her luggage.
‘I don’t know your friend and we have the presentation tomorrow,’ I pointed out.
‘Don’t be such a spoilsport. Let’s go!’ she said. She was already putting dresses on herself to decide which looked better. I was glad she didn’t ask me because I would have been of no help at all. My protests against the idea were shot down and fifteen minutes later, we were on the Mumbai streets making our way to Trilogy—a newly opened hip lounge bar in Bandra—where supposedly all the rich kids and starlets hung out.
‘So how do we get into this place?’ I asked.
She looked at me like I had insulted who she was and I half expected her to say, ‘Do you even know who I am?’
During our drive to the club, Malini’s phone rang many times, and every time she was more excited about the whole affair. On our way we stopped at a wine and beer shop and she bought a quarter bottle of Smirnoff vodka, green apple flavour, and drank it all by herself. It smelled terrible and I thought I would never drink an apple-flavoured drink again.
‘So? Who all are coming?’ I asked.
‘A whole bunch of people!’ she said, a drunk, goofy smile pasted on her face. Awkward.
The club was lit in bright red and blue neon lights. The bouncers checked our names in the guest list and let us through, even bowed down and smiled. On the table facing the door, about fifteen people waved at Malini—girls, guys and obviously gay guys. Malini ran to them and hugged them one after the other, laughed and held hands—quite in contrast to how she used to behave in the college—as I walked slowly up to them and hoped the hugging business would end soon. The girls had come in the shortest of dresses possible. There were off-shoulders, dresses held up by the tiniest of fibres tied dangerously around their necks and sinfully short skirts. Wanting to be a good boy, I tried to concentrate on their faces, but could hardly look beyond the abundant tanned and untanned skin on display. They seemed to have stepped out of fashion catalogues. It felt awkward between all the unknown people but I did not mind the sight.
‘This is Deb,’ Malini announced.
Everybody shouted a big ‘Hi’, and I greeted them back. They were drunk. After the brief customary greetings were exchanged, none of which were audible in the din of the reverberating music, they turned towards the tequila shots lined up on the table. Tequila, the word itself reeks of hangover, but they weren’t listening and started forcing it down my throat. I did not resist for I wanted the social awkwardness to end as soon as possible and being drunk seemed like a legit plan.
First shot.
It hit the head and burnt my throat. The music became louder and the lights felt harsh on my eyes.
Second shot.
It hit harder and my stomach burnt with an unseen ferocity, and slowly, the music blurred.
Third shot. Fourth shot. Fifth shot.
I lost count. It hit everywhere. My stomach calmed and my throat was soothed. The music ran through my body now and the lights seemed to converge into one big blob of different colours. Suddenly, everybody was a long-lost friend, a bhai, or a friend that I cursed for not having met before.
I picked up a bottle of beer and gave it a huge glug and emptied it in my belly like I had been thirsty for days. I do not remember the last time I drank so irresponsibly. It really did not matter what I was drinking, and everything tasted the same: a muted bitterness.
I felt someone tugging at my arm, and felt the blue and red rays of light pierce my eyes, enter the brain, and play lacrosse with it. My legs moved and so did my hands. I felt arms around m
e. I felt mine around someone else. Time slowed down. The faces blurred. Everyone looked the same. They all looked seductively beautiful and everyone danced well. The lights dimmed further and I felt bodies writhing against me. Was it Malini? Was it her friend in the green dress? I did not know. I still cannot tell.
Somewhere in all the sweat and writhing of bodies against me, the night ended for me. I faintly remember someone helping me into the taxi and asking me if I would be okay.
19
‘Wake up. WAKE UP. WAKE UP.’
I heard these sounds ring in my head. Then I felt my shoulder shaking, then the whole of me and the bed with it. The bed was wet and I wondered for a moment if I had wet my bed. I was back to when I was seven years old and a bed-wetting young boy.
‘Huh?’ I opened my eyes to see Malini staring at me. Her voice hurt my ears. I have not peed, it’s my sweat. ‘What happened?’
‘It’s fucking ten!’ screamed Malini.
‘Huh? Ten?’ I said, the significance still not registering in my head, and then it did. CASE STUDY! ‘Oh … fuck, fuck, fuck.’
I stood up, my head hammered by a million sledgehammers, my tongue coated and my breath a weapon of mass destruction. I was terribly hung-over. Goddamn tequila. The room was in a mess and so was I.
‘When did you wake up?’ I asked her.
‘Just now.’ She was throwing her clothes all over the room trying to look for her formal suit and found it.
‘Let’s just get ready and rush,’ I said.
‘What do you think I am doing?’ barked Malini.
I opened my suitcase and looked for my suit. We looked at each other and realized we did not have enough time to go out and change, so we turned our backs to each other and dressed up. As we changed in that room, I got a glimpse of her in the mirror on the wall, but it was unintentional. I did not mean to stare at her bare back but I wasn’t sorry that I did.
We rushed through the hostel corridors while my head still pounded, and my hair was a dowdy mess and I could hardly walk straight. We entered the auditorium and waved at the co-coordinator. He was pissed off for he had been trying to reach us since morning.
‘Where have you guys been? Now, we have scheduled you last in line,’ he said, barely suppressing his displeasure.
We stared at the floor, hoping it would consume us. While the other teams gave their presentations, we brushed ourselves up and tried to look as presentable as we could. Quite obviously, she did a better job for she had the entire cosmetic industry hidden in the zips and crevices of her handbag.
‘I hope you have the pen drive,’ she asked.
‘Yes, I do,’ I said and we wished the best of luck to ourselves.
We were up next and I was a pile of nerves. I would not say we did our best, but we did the best we could with a hangover and thoughts of the day before running through our heads.
The result was out within fifteen minutes of our presentation. We did not feature in the list of winners. Not even a consolation prize. We lost. I lost.
‘Hey! What happened? How did it go?’ Avantika asked.
‘We lost.’
‘Oh … never mind. At least you tried,’ consoled Avantika.
‘But it went well?’ she asked.
‘Under the circumstances, yes,’ I said.
‘Under what circumstances?’
‘We got a little drunk last night and woke up with a bad hangover this morning,’ I explained and Malini punched me and gave me a nasty stare. ‘What was that for?’ she mouthed in whispers.
‘You went drinking with her? Again?’
‘It was a party and I couldn’t say no. They just forced me to drink and I was—’
‘A night before the presentation? How irresponsible can you get?’ scolded Avantika.
‘I am sorry. I didn’t think I would drink that much.’
‘Anyway, did you have fun though?’
‘I guess. I do not remember most of it. I was out within the first three shots and the rest of the night is just a blur.’
She chuckled. ‘At least you did something well!’
‘I guess.’
‘Come back soon now. I have had enough of you not being around,’ she said.
‘Yes, I will. I can’t wait to see you again. Why does it feel like a month has passed and I haven’t seen you? Feels like forever.’
‘So what are your plans for tonight?’ she asked. I saw Malini get restless by the long phone call.
‘We might go out again.’
‘Have fun! But don’t do anything silly …’
‘Silly?’
‘Nothing, just come back soon, Deb,’ she said.
‘I love you, baby,’ I muttered and Malini rolled her eyes.
‘I love you,’ said Avantika and disconnected the phone.
‘You call her baby?’ Malini mocked.
‘So? Everyone uses it. What do you call your boyfriend?’
‘I call him by his name. That’s what names are for, you idiot,’ she said.
‘Whatever. If your boyfriend was lovable enough, you would have called him baby or anything else.’
She frowned. ‘Why don’t you start calling Avantika jaan or jaanu?’
‘This conversation is over,’ I grumbled.
She let the topic rest and we headed to the nearest bar to celebrate our effort, even though I wanted to go to McDonald’s or someplace where they didn’t serve drinks. Caravan was a decently done up place for its price and I liked it from the moment I stepped in even though the proximity of the bar and the bottles of alcohol made me want to throw up. We ordered the biggest pizza they had. She ordered a beer and I stuck with lime juice.
‘Why did you hit me when I was on the phone?’
‘I wanted you to shut up,’ she said.
‘Why?’
‘You don’t have to tell her everything!’
‘What did I tell her?
‘Duh! That you went out with me last night and that you got sloshed. Girlfriends don’t need to know every last detail of what you did or didn’t do.’
‘But I tell her everything. She doesn’t mind and she doesn’t have a problem. That’s how it’s always been,’ I said. ‘There is no reason to hide anything from her. Why should I feel guilty when there’s no reason to feel so?’
I have always thought of Avantika as a witness to my life. She was someone who would see it all, someone who would know everything about me, someone who would always be there. And if my story ever needed to be told, she would be the one to tell it.
‘Obviously she minds, everyone does. She just does a better job of hiding it.’
‘She knows that I wouldn’t do anything unwarranted,’ I said confidently.
‘Then you’re lucky she doesn’t know what happened last night.’ She rolled her eyes again, and I wanted to tell her that her devil-may-care attitude was not going down well with me.
‘Why is that smirk on your face?’
‘Nothing.’ She smiled.
‘What happened last night?’ I asked again.
‘You really want to know?’
‘Yes, please tell me.’
She kept nibbling at the crust of the pizza, ignoring my questioning eyes. I strained myself to piece together last night but everything that happened between the fourth shot and this morning never found a place in my head.
‘You don’t want to know. Even if you do, you would not be able to keep it to yourself. And I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with Avantika.’
‘Shut up, Malini. Just tell me.’
‘If you insist.’ She smiled. ‘Last night—’ she paused.
‘Go ahead.’
‘Nothing happened.’ She laughed and almost choked herself.
‘Fuck you.’
She kept laughing and then suddenly stopped and said very seriously, ‘Last night, you kissed three girls and none of them were Avantika.’
What! ‘You are kidding, right?’
‘No, Deb, I’m as serious as deat
h,’ she said. ‘Look.’
Oh, no. She fished out her digital camera from her handbag and scrolled through the photographs from last night. In the initial photographs, everybody looked sane and we were just smiling in those pictures, and in most of them I was in the background with a beer bottle in hand, smiling goofily. No signs of kisses. As the night went on and we came to the later pictures, the hugs and the kisses became more intimate and scandalous. This isn’t true; this is some fucked-up Photoshop.
I counted the number of times I was doing something I shouldn’t have been doing; there were two unmistakable instances where my tongue was woefully digging inside another girl’s mouth.
My mind went into multiple convulsions as I thought about the consequences. I did not even remember what any of the girls looked like. Or who they were! My heart sank to my feet and I slumped in my chair. It was right in front of my eyes yet I could not recall anything.
She would understand I was not in my senses. I do not even remember what happened last night. She would not accuse me. She would not leave me. What if she does? What if she doesn’t believe me? What if she thinks I am lying? What if she did the same? Would I forgive her? Would I?
I felt like shit. Why did I do it!
‘Fuck. Give me the camera.’
I deleted the pictures.
‘Is that going to help?’ asked Malini.
‘Will you please stop smiling? This isn’t funny. And who are these girls? Are they CRAZY? Why did they kiss me? Sluts.’
‘Oye. Who are you calling sluts? What do you think you are, Deb? You kissed them back,’ argued Malini.
‘Sorry.’ My breaths were short and ragged. ‘Who was clicking these pictures?’
‘I was,’ said Malini and added as a matter of fact, ‘and you also kissed me but there are no pictures for that.’
‘This can’t be true. You’re shitting me, right? I couldn’t have kissed you, could I?’ I said and held my head when I saw her nodding. She was serious. ‘I am so screwed.’
‘Listen, Deb, no one remembers anything. These photographs mean nothing. Nobody has them and you just deleted them. No one has to know what happened last night.’
‘But—’
‘So you don’t have to tell her. It was just a silly night and nobody will ever talk about it. It is as if it never happened. The pizza is getting cold. You need to eat.’
